This is my blog.
There are many like it but this one is mine.
My blog is not necessarily my best friend, but it means well.
It is a tiny fraction of my life.
I must master it as I must master my life.
Which I recognize is a circular statement with no actual context or substance, but sounds deep and wisdomy.
Without me, my blog is useless.
Also not as funny.
Without my blog I am just another guy without a blog.
I must write my blog true. Or false. Depends on the weather, i suppose.
I must ruminate more crisply than some other blogger, who is trying to out-funny me.
I must stop using made up words, like geflunka, or Dave. Or wisdomy.
I must publish mine before he or she publishes theirs.
I will. (No I won’t).
I promise. (No I don’t).
I mean it this time. (Not really).
Really. (Wrong again).
Before Eccentrica Gallumbits and Kurt Vonnegut and The Fonze, I swear this creed:
My blog and myself are defenders of the magical land of Tee-Hee-Hee.
We are the Masters of my inner monologue.
We are the Sainted Physician, attending to the Sacred and the Wounded Words of my life.
So be it, or make it so, until there is no more words to write, but peace.
So say we all.